Falling From The Stars
by Raiyo
Summary: After saving a young girl from a horrible fate Teresa finds her self cought in a web of carefully crafted lies with the one person she would never expect at the center of it all. Dark AU TeresaClare
1. Sunset Showers

Yay! a Claymore catagory on FFN. I remember when there was only one sucky story. Here is my contribution to Claymore fanfiction. An AU Teresa/Clare story That I wrote while it was pouring down buckets, it's still raining in fact. Please read and Review.

Parings: Teresa/Clare, Noel/Sophia, Isley/Rigald, onesided Irene/Teresa.

Warnings: Yaoi, Yuri, Language, Death, Murder, Drug use, Attempted rape, Child abuse, loli-Clare, Not beta-ed.

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**Chapter one**

**Everything and nothing**

Clare remembers the first time that she had met the person she would come to call her angel.

It had been raining that day, raining, raining, raining...

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The rain sparkled down like silver sunshine, hued deep crimson in the light of the fading day. The drops fell down in sweeping arks, only to crash, breaking into thousands of tiny glistening crystals of fire, as they hit the cracked black, forming trails of sun kissed lava. Anyone watching the spectacle would have called it beautiful. Well, all but one.

Teresa cursed as she ran down the dirty street, her long blond hair sopping and falling limply into her silver eyes. She should have brought an umbrella with her. The Weather channel had said that it was going to rain but, who honestly believed weather men anyway. It had been a clear day when she had gone out, with a blue sky and bids chirping, all that shit. So, she had left her umbrella at home thinking that she wouldn't need it, what a mistake that was.

It wasn't getting wet that was the problem, after all, it took a lot more than a little bit of rain to scare Teresa. No, it wasn't the rain that got to Teresa, it was the fact that rain wasn't exactly good for sketch books, especially the sketch books of poor starving artists, especially when said sketch book is only carried in a leaky leather case that couldn't keep out anymore water than a tissue. Not that Teresa was either poor or starving, maybe a little low on money, but not poor.

She had been sitting in her college art class drawing a rather nice still life of a sword when the storm came in, first the clouds, then the wind, and finally the the ice cold torrents of rain. When the class finally ended she had quickly gathered up her pens and pencils, placing them in the bag with her sketch book. She could take the bus halfway to her apartment but after that she would be on her own. She really wished that she had a car, not that it would do much good around here, with traffic as bad as it usually was, but it would still be useful in situations like this.

Now Teresa was running the few blocks left to her home, bag clutched close to her chest. It was still raining heavily and the sky was dark with black clouds. The blood sun though, shone through even the cover of ash water, staining the world rose. It might be a nice picture to paint, if she ever got around to it.

Recently, she had had less motivation. Life had been getting boring for her, even though she was doing what she had always wanted. Not like she could go home either, she had run away from that when she had turned eighteen, just over two years ago. She had moved to this city to attend art school. It had all been fine in the beginning, she had been excited about starting a new life. Now the spark just wasn't there anymore. Maybe she needed a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, she wasn't picky. Though even if she did find someone she didn't think she would be able to fall in love. It just wasn't her style.

Don't tell Noel or Sophia that though, they were the couple that lived in the apartment next to hers, and were always trying to set her up with one of their friends. First there had been Irene, who had obviously had a crush on her, but she had been a bit... freaky, might have been the ears though. Then there had been Priscilla, she had been okay, if you got rid of the shyness and sense of righteous justice. After that, it was Isley. They had gotten along pretty well actually and were still friends. Though, Teresa thought, he had to be gay, him and Rigald and all.

Needless to say, all subsequent attempts had failed as well. They still hadn't given up yet. Sometimes Teresa wondered about them. Well, it didn't matter, they were rather enterta-.

Teresa's thoughts were cut short by yelling. She couldn't make out what they were saying but they were yelling loud enough that it didn't matter. It was nothing unusual. This wasn't the best side of town and there were lots of gangs around. The rent in this area was cheaper, though, so Teresa didn't really care.

The problem with this was that it was close, really close. Teresa would have no choice but to walk past them if she wanted to get too her apartment, about a block away from where she was currently. Shit. They were probably right in front of her door too. She hoped they didn't see her.

When she got there, she still couldn't understand what they were they were saying, but for an entirely different reason. They were speaking another language. She sighed. Yes, they were right in front of her apartment complex.

Maybe she should go through the back door. She was about to turn and try to go around the back way when she saw someone in the center of the group of gangsters. The girl was young, around twelve or thirteen, and covered in bruises. She had blond-brown hair that was tangled and mated with what looked like blood. Her dirty white dress was torn in many places and the front was ripped off. She had a hand up over her chest to hide her undeveloped breasts. A large man yelled something and grabbed her thin wrist and groped her small chest. His hand inched lower and she opened her mouth in a silent scream and thrashed around more trying to get away from the man. The man reached a hand up to slap her but before it came down n her grimy flesh the hand was caught in mid air by a pale hand, its grip solid.

"What the hell?!" the man yelled when a fist collided with his cheek, sending him sprawling.

Teresa smiled faintly and stood up straighter.

The little girl looked at her in awe.

"Hey kid." Teresa called.

The girl nodded.

"Catch." She flung her bag at the kid and had her hands free just in time to block an attack from one of the men, catching his wrist mid swing and breaking it. This was too easy, these men were weak.

"Get behind me, girl." the girl ran, hiding behind Teresa, watching as she defeated all the men effortlessly. When Teresa was done she turned back to the girl.

"Come on." she said, grabbing her by the hand.

The girl widened her eyes and didn't move.

Teresa sighed.

"We need to get you some new clothes, you can't just go out in public like that."

the kid relaxed slightly and followed Teresa to her apartment.

Noel and Sophia were leaning against it.

"Damn! We thought you'd never show. Did ya already forget that you promised us sword lessons. Honestly Teresa- Hey, who's that." Noel asked, stopping in her raving before continuing.

"Wow, Teresa! Did you finally get a girlfriend? Looks like you were a bit rough with her, shouldn't have torn her dress like that. How old is she any way? Seems a little young to me, didn't know you were into that sort of thing. What's her name?"

Teresa massaged her temples. Stupid Noel.

"Don't ask so many questions, Noel. I found her outside being attacked by some gangsters."

"Right. Sure."

Sophia took over.

"We should leave, Noel. They probably have other things to do."

Realization dawned on Noel's face.

"oh. Oh. Other things, I get it. Have fun you two." she said as she was dragged into their room by Sophia.

When they left Teresa shook her head and sighed.

"Sorry about that. That's just how they are. Now let's get you cleaned up."

The bathroom was small, but it would do.

"Hold on one second." Teresa told the girl as she went to get some of her smaller clothes. She hoped that they would fit.

When she returned the girl still had her bag clutched tightly in her small hands.

"You can put that on the table." she said gesturing to it.

The girl nodded, placing it gently on the wooden table in the dining room.

"follow me.'' she said walking to the bathroom.

"You can take a shower."

Teresa turned on the water and adjusted it to a proper temperature.

"There that should do it." she laid down the clothes by the shower.

"Call me it you need... anything..." she trailed off.

The girl had taken off her dress, revealing her many wounds and scars and her almost emaciated figure.

"Who did this to you?" Teresa asked, hints of anger in her voice.

The girl opened her mouth to speak before closing it again when her stomach growled. She shook her head and stripped off everything else before stepping into the shower's spray.

"I guess I'll go cook something for dinner. Talk to me afterwards, okay?"

Teresa closed the bathroom door and walked over to the kitchen. She opened the cabinet and looked at the food she had.

"Pasta it is." she picked up a package of pasta and a jar of tomato sauce

She was stirring the sauce in a pan when she sighed.

"What am I doing?" she whispered.

This was going to be nothing but trouble. She should have just left her there. Why hadn't she? It certainly wasn't because she was being nice. She wasn't. For damn sakes, she worked as a professional assassin in her spare time to pay for college fees. She had no care for human life, so why? She didn't think she could even explain to herself why she had cared. When she had first seen the girl she had felt a stirring in her chest and she had gone to save her. It was as simple as that.

The sauce started to boil and Teresa poured it into a bowl and moved it and the pasta to the table just as the girl came in wearing new clothes.

"Sit down." Teresa said, pointing to the chair opposite her.

"I hope pasta is okay with you, it's all I see to have."

The girl nodded from her seat at the table.

Teresa waited until she had settled down before asking questions.

"What is Your name?"

the girl opened he mouth and a small cracked voice tried to rasp something out. She tried again with little success. Finally on the third try she was able get something out.

"What did you say?" Teresa had barely been able to hear.

"C-C-Cla-Clare." she spoke her voice cracking from disuse.

"My n-name is Clare." This time her voice had a little more confidence in it.

"Well then Clare," Teresa folded her hands in front of her. "tell me everything."


	2. Thunder's Light

Um... Hello. Sorry this has been so late. I took a break from all of my multichapter fics to better my writing. Or I was just being lazy... Pick whichever. Anyway, while I suppose that this should technically be the third chapter I wrote it as the second. Takes place about a week/few days after Teresa met Claire. Things will be cleared up in the next few chapters (If I get them written...). Sorry if it's not that great, I haven't written (a chapter of) a multi part fic in a while.

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The sky rumbles with the sound of lightening. Rain batters the windows of an old house. Slowly, a silver shadow moves in the darkness, blending, being. Foot steps light almost silent, though the figure is carrying a sword that seemed so heavy that it must be carved from lead.

A cold flash, like that of he rain hitting the iced tin roof, and she is behind them, her white blade pressed against their pulsing veins ready to sink in like a vampire, ready to feast.

It is so easy now. Time stops for a moment, right before the finishing blow, then the cold metal slices through them as if they were air, time starts again, and they will fall, gone from the world before they even hit the ground, limbs at angles impossible in life. They forever will be silenced, the world will remain quiet.

Teresa pushes the door to the master's study open and quietly steppes in as the wind from the hall extinguishes the small flame that has been burning on a half-melted red candle, the only source of illumination in the room. A man sits in a chair at the desk, his hair graying and his face etched with lines. He watches his candle flicker and die, then turned his gaze to the door. A crash echoes through the house as he falls from his seat sending the chair to the floor as he scurries back to the dead fireplace like a cockroach.

"Your... The silver-eyed witch!"

His voice is loud, croaking and toad-like, and it makes her want to raise her blade higher, makes her want to move her feet faster, makes her want to kill. It's these people who she loathes most of all, these people who make things that destroy lives worse than any gun or sword.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

He's pleading now for his sad sad life and if it were up to her she would end it right now but for now that is not her purpose here.

"Where is it?"

Her voice is like ice, like drowning in the arctic sea.

"What do you mean? Please just spare me!"

Teresa crosses the room in a lightening flash and presses the cool silver metal to the toad-like man's sweaty neck.

"You know what I mean. Where is the Yoma. Tell me and I might let you live."

He's shaking fearfully, his eyes fixed on the sword.

"I don't have it! I swear! They took it all!"

The blade presses drawing faint lines of red.

"They?"

"The Awakened! Don't kill me please."

She lets him go and the severed head on the ground lets out a sigh of relief.

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The rain has tried desperately to wash out the red splatters and Teresa is soaked when she opens he apartment door.

The Awakened...

It was the name of a new gang involved in the illegal dealing of the drug Yoma. Yoma was dangerous yet the world still used it like it was candy. They didn't know... They didn't know what it could do.

The floor boards creak and Teresa looks up, ready to attack.

"Teresa..."

A young girl stands in the door way, and towel held lightly in her small hands and a smile on her face.

"You're soaked Teresa."

"Claire..."

Claire slowly walks over and drapes the towel over Teresa's shoulders.

"You must be tired Teresa. Let's go to sleep."

And they do, curled up together with Claire held tightly in Teresa's arms.

To Teresa it seems like a memory only the roles have been reversed.

As her conciousness fades Teresa whispers a name to the nothing, a name that has been the first and last thing on her mind for ten years.

"Rosemary..."


End file.
